Too Cold To Fly
by Starr Bryte
Summary: "Heartbreak is a burden to us all, pity the man with two" Alistair. Sarah. The Ponds. River. The Time War broke his mind, but their deaths broke his hearts. Winter is coming and the Doctor's spirit freezes with it. Vastra fears the universe may just finally lose it's guiding light to the darkness inside his head. Prequel to "The Great Detective" companion fic to "Eurybia's Memory".
1. Pre-Programed

**AN: **So I watched The Snowmen on Christmas Day and WOW. Just WOW. I'm sure I'm not the only one who ended up pointing and screaming at the screen. But it made me think. The Doctor didn't just lose the Ponds. In the past two years he had lost the Brigadier, one of his best friends since his second regeneration, and Sarah Jane, one of his most beloved and faithful companions since his third regeneration. Two people he had loved for a very very long time and were the last remaining companions from when he was really and truly happy. Before the War and before everything else. They were always there. Now they're not. And with River gone he has NO ONE left. No wonder he ran to Victorian London. The only human he really knows is Jenny and I don't think she really counts anymore considering how long she's been with Vastra. He did know these other two guys but I'm not sure they're still around. I'll have to more digging about that one.

I looked up Vastra on TARDISfiles and found out that she did a bit of traveling with the Fourth Doctor, so that's kinda cool. It explains how she knows him so well at least.

This is probably one of my first real Hurt/Comfort fics so we'll see how this goes. The disturbing part was that in order to get inspired enough to write AngstMuffin!Doctor was to watch "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant". That's weird.

Writing this as a companion piece to my other Vastra fic "Eurybia's Memory" because why not? And speaking of, I WILL continue that fic because it's awesome. I just need to do some more research which is hard. I'm not good with technothingies and stuff like that. But I will get through it somehow.

Got an outline done for "Cracks" and some random notes for the next storyarc so that'll hopefully get done soon.

For Vastra's backstory I decided that her native dialect would be a weird smoosh of Greek and other things, I'm still working on it but it seems to really suit the way I write her.

Translations:

___Aíma_= Blood

_Dáskalos_ =Teacher

I know other people have commented on it in "Eurybia's Memory" and they'll probably comment on it here. Because Vastra is a Silurian I decided to give her a second set of eyelids, like other lizard species. Because it's cool and neat and the less human I make her the more fun she is. I think some are mistaking those eyelids for me talking about the Silurian Third Eye. Which Vastra's species of Silurian don't have. If anyone has any suggestions on how I can make the differentiation easier let me know.

Also, comment! Let me know how I'm doing. I became a Whovian back in July and I've been trying to catch up on my Classic Who, but if there are any Silurian and Valyard fans out there don't hesitate to sing out! Any help I can get would be amazing! And comment even if you don't have advice. Any words of encouragement will let me know I'm on the right track!

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_White lips, pale face_  
_Breathing in snowflakes_  
_Burnt lungs, sour taste_  
_Light's gone, day's end_  
_And they scream_  
_"The worst things in life come free to us"_  
_'Cause we're just under the upperhand_  
_We fly to the Motherland_

_And it's too cold outside for angels to fly_

**Ed Sheeran- A Team**

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Autumn sunlight streamed in through every window and it was oddly warm for October. Vastra and Strax had gone out on a job involving mail fraud, a cheating husband and a cod fish, not necessarily in that order. All of Jenny's plans for the day involved finishing a few letters and then catching up on that series by Sir Doyle and if he got one more thing wrong she was going to do something very rude and un-Victorian to him. She didn't so much mind the main characters being men but somethings just were not meant to be changed! Seriously. Where was the romance between the two main characters? For shame! Apparently Vastra had read all of the Sherlock Holmes books when she had traveled with the Doctor and now watching history unfold seemed to amuse her to no end. That and the gender change meant they could continue living in the shadows as they preferred it.

When she had made mention of the short stories about them the Doctor had given her a tooth-baring grin more reminiscent of his fourth self and said, "Well, just you wait until you see the movies." And she had to admit that Jude Law was a pretty good looking equivalent to herself and she had teased Vastra about her, quite clearly mad, counterpart relentlessly until her spouse had gotten fed up and pinned her to the corridor wall. Luckily the TARDIS had managed to materialize a broom cupboard not a foot away or they would have scandalized their poor Doctor more than they already had in the theater. Lucky for them River had been there to distract him with her own set of feminine wiles.

She had just settled down on the love seat near the window in the drawing room when the TARDIS wheezed into existence. It had been less than six months since they had seen the Doctor last and he never did give any warning. Sighing to herself she set the magazine down and waited. Nothing. The blue box sat there and was completely and utterly silent. No Doctor bounding through the doors. No Professor Song sauntering out with a flirt and a wink. Nothing. It took less than a minute for Jenny to realize that something was wrong. It wasn't like Demons Run where he had stuck his, then unfamiliar, head out the door to grimly inform her that he was collecting them for a trip and to arm themselves. Then he had slammed the door in her face just as she opened her mouth to ask why and she had spent the next few hours wondering what that was all about and waiting for Vastra to get home. This was a different sort of wrong, she could feel it.

Instinct honed by years of training and Vastra's firm guidance quickened her blood before she took a deep breath and smoothed her expression. She slid off the seat and hesitantly approached the blue box, gingerly placing a hand on the door. The usual humming vibration was lower, the tingle of the telepathic interface brought tears to her eyes as emotions that weren't her own thrummed through her mind. She got the distinct impression that the timeship was sad.

Pulling her hand away she cleared her throat and raised her chin, blinking quickly. Straightening her apron she knocked firmly.

"Doctor?" She called, "Doctor, are you alright?" She tried the handle and found it locked. She sighed and leaned her head against the door. The vibrations made her bones tingle and the sadness was there; deep and ancient like a bruise, sharp and stinging like a cut. She stiffened her resolve not to cry, tears of sympathy wouldn't help, but she didn't move away either.

"It's alright, dear..." She whispered to the sadness emanating from the sentient vessel, her hands gently tracing over the rough wooden shell, "You're here now. Everything's going to be fine..."

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When Vastra returned home the only plans for the evening involved a glass of _Aíma _and wine, a hot bath, and a certain warm-blooded mammal, not necessarily in that order. Strax took the horse to the stable and then went off to do whatever Strax did when he wasn't with them. She assumed something involving pubs and thugs, again not necessarily in that order.

Her plans to lick wine and sweat from her mate's navel and thighs in front of the fireplace, while her mask of Victorian restraint shattered from pleasure, changed when she saw the blue box sitting in her drawing room. A distressed Jenny was wringing her hands at her, the mask of Victorian restraint cracking at the seams with worry.

"There's been no word. Nothing. It's been almost four hours now. And she's sad, so very sad." She said. Vastra sighed, gently ran a finger down her spouse's cheek in a way that made her smile, and then reached into her pocket for her key.

The key had changed a few times since she had received it, as had the appearance of the box and her pilot. At the height of his existence, in the prime of his life, the key had been rather large, with an intricately detailed Seal of Rassilon imprinted on it and had hung on a lovely silk cord as a symbol of his status as President Elect. He'd go through strange phases between immensely proud of his position or immensely irritated by the stupidity of the politics in his own people. It had been a rather alarming day when the key had abruptly changed into a simple brass piece, tarnished and beaten on a tattered thread. Now it was slightly shinier, as was the TARDIS and her pilot, slowly healing from the war. He had his ups and downs, as did most veterans of horror, but with him it was so much harder to bring him back when he went to the dark places in his head. His happiness was so much rarer and shorter than it had been before and she worried for him.

Recently it was almost like they were falling backwards into the dark places again and that was a very bad sign. Despite what he told her, time line collapses and the war she firmly believed that the Valeyard was still very much a threat. Even more so now after so many loses and so many mistakes. Watching her friend sink into the depths of despair only heightened the belief that one day the universe would lose it's guiding light to the darkness he kept inside.

The door unlocked with a click under her hand, the interface making her second set of eyelids blink from the strange feeling of alien emotions intruding on her thoughts. Jenny had said she was sad, but that was only her brain translating what it could very basically understand. To Vastra's mind the feeling was that of being alone. Tribeless. Clanless. Mateless. Failure to protect the Tribe. Failure to defend the nest. She cocked her head to the side, keeping her third eyelid down, casting the console room in a dim wavery haze.

She had been taught to interact with the console interface as part of her therapy. The Doctor had been willing to try and help her overcome her issues by allowing her access to a larger telepathic entity. Her own rage, fear and sadness were dwarfed by a massive consciousness that saw everything and anything. Her species meant almost nothing in the face of the universe. She was tiny. Dust particles floating in sunlight. All things came to dust and everything died. It wasn't the fault of the tunnelers who broke through the aged and dilapidated outer wall of their shelter. They had only been catalysts, sacrifices for a greater purpose. Her sisters who had died from the collapse had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but their deaths had been completely painless. Their hibernation deep and crushing suffocation immediate. She was sad that they were dead and missed them bitterly, but more angry that they had died without accomplishing anything and it was that anger that had spurred her wrath. If she had kept her head and sought out help the situation would not have escalated the way it had and she was still paying penance to the workers she had killed. Sixteen warriors of Crios, three from the Eurybia clutch, and ten good human males had died and in the end it mattered not to the will of the universe. It had been a comforting and humbling experience and she had learned so much about her own place on the Earth and in the Doctor's life.

_Greetings, Dáskalos_ She let her thoughts reach out. She let her vision focus. The console room was dim. The rotor and emergency lights the only things illuminating the dark. It was chilly, as if the pilot had let the temperature go to automatic, no longer needing to cater to the needs of temperature sensitive passengers. She breathed deep, flaring nostrils, opening her mouth and curling her tongue to taste the air. The quality was a bit stale, as if going through the same cycle. No one to breathe the air, no need for fresh. Life support had been turned down a few notches then. An automated feature to save power. Turning she met Jenny's concerned gaze.

"Stay here." She instructed softly, "I'll go check on him. Put on some soup and run a bath, as hot as you dare, warm the bed as well."

"Yes." Jenny murmured, subdued. Vastra smiled for her until she smiled back but it was a sad, muted thing.

She closed the door behind her and made her way up the stairs to the console. She had only been taught the very basics on what everything did, but she didn't really need to know in order to interact with it. Reaching out she touched the rotor.

"_Emergency protocol seventeen, initiated."_ The light, precise voice of the Doctor echoed through the room, _"Voice interface: Enabled. Telepathic interface: Enabled. Bioscan: Complete. Greetings, Vastra tou Crios kai Eurybia." _A light flickered and there, standing next to the console, was a holographic projection of the Doctor.

"What is Emergency protocol seventeen." She stated without preamble.

"_Emergency protocol seventeen."_ the voice of the Doctor answered, "_In the event that the pilot is unable to return to the console while in flight after a period of twenty linear Primary Console hours, the capsule will enact emergency landing procedures according to the viable coordinates listed as safe zones."_

"What are safe zones."

"_Safe zones include coordinates to the locations of known personages with access to Voice Interface, Telepathic Interface, Bio Scan Clearance or a Key."_

"So anyone who has traveled with the Doctor long enough to gain his complete trust is entered on a list of viable coordinates for emergency landings in the event of Emergency Protocol Seventeen." Vastra clarified.

"_Correct."_

"How long has the Doctor been away from the console?"

"_Twenty-six hours, forty-seven minutes, fifty-two seconds linear Primary Console time."_

"Why come here? There had to have been someplace closer. Someone with more access."

"_There is no one else."_ Vastra blinked, yanked the monitor towards her, brought up the records for the last few landings and blinked again.

"It says here your last destination was England 2012! UNIT! Bannerman Road! Buckingham Palace! Even Torchwood would have suited! You have friends, good true friends in that area!"

"_There is no one else."_

"What do you mean no one else? Last I checked he had at least eight other contacts! The Lethebridge-Stewarts! Sarah Jane Smith! People who care about you! Not that I'm not glad to see you, it's been ever so long, but you were in the area! Why change course and come here?"

"_There is no one else."_ Vastra had never understood the meaning of the phrase 'to feel your blood run cold' or 'to feel one's stomach drop' or even 'heart in the throat'. But she did know the feeling of dread. That sick feeling of knowing what the bad thing was and hoping beyond hope she was wrong. The last time she had felt this way she had been pulled for hibernation to find half of her tribe's complex buried under dirt and rubble.

"Where are the Ponds..?" She asked slowly. Carefully. Each and every companion the Docter ever traveled with was special in their own way and he loved all of them as much as he ever could. And the Ponds were very special. The first companions in over four hundred years the Doctor had honestly called family. Had claimed as family. The voice interface was quiet for so long that she almost repeated the question. The voice interface, when it answered, was so quiet that Vastra was no longer able to qualify it as a computer interface, but the Doctor in mourning.

"_...gone..."_ She leaned against the console, sighing out a long keening breath. She had sparred with the Last Centurion while they had collected people for Demons Run. He was one of very few males she respected and considered comrade. He had looked her dead in the eye with a gaze so clear and old for a moment she thought she was in the presence of another Time Lord. When he spoke he commanded so much respect that it was as if he were a Silurian commander in his own right. That kind of respect was usually earned over the course of years and he had won it from her the moment he'd disarmed her. He had touched his blade to her throat with such control she'd felt the very tip slide between her scales to touch the tender flesh beneath. All without drawing a single drop of blood.

She never had the chance to know Amelia as well as she would have liked. Her reputation preceded her though and to inspire such loyalty in her mate was impressive. Even weakened by childbirth and whatever torture they had put her through she had still been a lovely, fearsome creature. Her firebird red hair echoing the fires inside.

Gone. Both gone. Well all companions had to leave sometime, that was the way it worked. They were human, they were mortal. Time didn't really exist in the TARDIS but then again, no one really spent all that much time in the TARDIS anyway. They would eventually age to the point that the Doctor could no longer bear to think about it and then they would go home for good. But from the taste of sadness it seemed as if it wasn't just them walking away or being dropped off. It wasn't the usual sort of ending with the promise of maybe seeing them again. This had been abrupt, brutal, without warning and, worst of all, permanent. Vastra stiffened, as a terrible thought struck her. If the TARDIS was here, dark and cold and silent, insisting that there was no one else left and nowhere else to land that could only mean-

"Where is Melody? Where is River Song?!"

The silence that answered was answer enough. Vastra sagged against the console, gripping the edges hard.

Young Melody Pond had been the Doctor's near perfect match for that regeneration. The cause of his brightest smiles and darkest expressions. He had brought her to visit many times and they double dated more times than she could count or remember at the moment. She had her father's steadfast loyalty and ferocious protective nature and her mother's flirty command. It didn't matter if it was her third regeneration, she resembled them strongly still. She had been Jenny's maid of honor at their wedding and Vastra had stood next to the Doctor as he leaned close to give her the one thing that would bind them together forever. They had known the risks. The Doctor had told her about the complexities of their time line though not the way those time lines would separate. Melody had confided her fear that one day he would look at her and ask her who she was to him. They had known going in that it wasn't forever. It couldn't be. She had given up her last ten regenerations for him and, though probably long lived, it would eventually end with her death.

No wonder the TARDIS interface was so emotive. She was merely echoing the emotions of her pilot amplified by their bond and leaking to anyone who had stepped through her doors. There were probably former and future companions, out there in time and space, that were looking out their windows or up at the sky and wondering why they were sad. Vastra took a deep breath. She would sing a dirge for them later. Her comrade needed her now.

"Where is he?"

Instead of answering a series of ceiling lights lit up down a hallway. With a last fond caress to the console she turned and began to follow those lights. It wasn't her imagination that the last thing she heard echoing from the empty console room was a very faint,

"_Good luck."_


	2. Self-Inflicted

**AN: **Wow... First day posted and already two reviews! I'm so happy! Thank you **10Blue10 **and **bluerthanvelvet** for your kind words! Kinda fun that both your names involve the word blue but never mind!

This chapter was very emotional for me to write and the last part had a lot of spelling errors at first because I was trying to write it with watery eyes and sad music.

Also a scene here that I've been wanting to write FOREVER! Ever since I saw "Let's Kill Hitler" and now my dream has come true! Happy day!

It might be a while before the next chapter is up. I was writing this fic all in one chunk and then decided to start splitting up some of the scenes into chapters. I know what I want to write for the next part all I have to do is do it.

Thank you and please review! Words mean a lot to me, be they good bad or ugly! I will do my best!

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_While the law has many penalties for the atrocities we inflict on others_  
_ There are no punishments for the terrors we inflict on ourselves_

~ Red vs. Blue season six

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It was a very twisty-turny walk and Vastra could only assume the Doctor had programed this. It wasn't a good sign when the Doctor didn't want to be found. The TARDIS was being nothing but helpful, moving hallways around, keeping up the trail of lights. The room she finally found him in was a fully furnished bedroom. It wasn't his, she'd seen that tiny cubbyhole he liked to curl up in when he deigned to sleep. This regeneration must have imprinted on a cat before setting eyes on Amelia. The last regeneration she had seen him in, his seventh, had preferred a hammock attached to bungee cords with a cot underneath for when he finally fell out. He'd been a bit of an odd one, all contradictions. It was a wonder that pretty little ward of his survived him long enough to get to Gallifrey at all...

This was a marital chamber, filled with the scents and memories of a life not alone. It was dark and even with her excellent night vision it was difficult to make out details.

"Doctor." She said, quietly but firmly. There was no answer, but she didn't really expect one. A lamp sitting on a bed side table lit up, although the light remained dim. He was sitting on the floor, looking like he hadn't moved in days. And considering the way the rooms were designed and the relativity of time in those rooms, maybe it had been days. Maybe it had been longer. Vastra's nostrils flared and she opened her mouth, curling her tongue, tasting the scents in the room, reading a story from it. The story of the Doctor and River Song.

The Doctor slept here, when he had to. But there was more to it than that. His mate needed to sleep more often and during those times he would lie next to her, curled around her. Until she fell asleep and sometimes long after, just watching. When an adventure went a bit wrong he bandaged her up here, healed her here, lecturing all the while about being careful and not wandering off. She wrote up reports here. Did research here. Laughed and cried here. He laughed and cried here. Divulged his secrets here. Gave more of himself here than he had probably ever given to anyone. Even her. Their scents mixed and clashed and complimented here. Pheromones and hormones and biochemicals that said claimed and satisfied. This is mine. My mate. My territory. My nest. Mine.

Overlaid all of that now was the reek of his sorrows, tainting the memories of what was. He had given her up here. Had held her for the last time here. Kissed her for the last time here. Wept here after she had gone. Her scent was starting to fade away.

Stepping into that room she felt like she was intruding. One step, then two and she was inside the doorway. He was leaning against the bed, his long legs splayed out in front of him, jacket missing. He was too thin and a complete and utter mess staring blankly at the floor in front of himself, not seeing any of it.

"Doctor." She said again, a little louder this time. He didn't move, didn't acknowledge her. He had gone to that place in his mind he had escaped to after the war. He had apparently spent weeks catatonic from that and she was worried that he had done the same now. She wasn't the type to jump, but her head reared back slightly, eyes widening and nostrils flaring when he suddenly spoke.

"I knew." He said, his voice gravely from tears and disuse. She cocked her head to the side quizzically but didn't answer. The corner of his mouth twitched up and he huffed in bitter amusement.

"I've always known. Our entire relationship I've always known. From the very day she was born I knew. River Song. Melody Pond. The mystery woman. She always seemed to know everything and was always so smug about it. Always having one up on the old Doctor. Didn't matter how long I knew her. Didn't matter if it was when she knew me more or when I knew her more. She always knew at least one thing more that I didn't. Except for this. I win. I knew."

"Knew what?" Vastra asked, interrupting his flow. He tilted his head slightly, just enough to roll his eyes up at her, that strange bitter smile still curving his lips.

"I knew that she would die..." He murmured, "The very first time I met her... I broke her heart... And then she died... And in those last few moments she knew. She knew that I knew. That I had always known." His head tilted back then until it was leaning against the edge of the bed and he was staring up at the ceiling, "I wonder if she hated me then..."

"Well, she was always talking about how much she hated you for most of your acquaintance and you never believed her then, what could possibly give you the idea she means it now?" Vastra snapped, her patience with him coming to an end. A half-shrug was her answer and she growled.

"All right. That's enough of that." She muttered, gliding into the room to crouch between his legs, her skirts billowing around her. She grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her eyes. He looked even more terrible up close and smelled even worse. Tears and pain and torment, he'd forced himself to relive every single moment of their relationship. She had always known he was good at self-flagellation, ripping himself open over every wrong he committed, on purpose or accidental. This was the real reason why the Doctor could never be left alone. He was a danger to himself.

"When has she ever given you reason to doubt the truth of her heart? When has she ever betrayed you in any way that mattered? I'm not speaking of little betrayals, all married couples do those, even me. When has she ever betrayed your love?" She asked, seriously. His eyes were hazy and she wondered again how long he had been sitting by himself, alone in the dark, before the TARDIS had taken matters into her own incorporeal hands.

His chin wobbled and he opened his mouth but no sound came out so he said nothing. It was answer enough. Vastra sighed and grabbed his arm, lifting him far too easily to his feet.

"Doctor, my friend, I forcibly invite you to stay with Jenny and I for as long as you have need of us. As your friend I am inviting you, as your comrade I am ordering you and as head of my houseI am forcing you. You don't have any choice in this matter, I've taken those from you. If you protest then I will knock you so hard you will be nothing more than an intelligent piece of fruit of my choosing. Perhaps a pear. So you might as well give in and let us take care of you." Vastra was usually a creature of few words, but she felt the sudden need to fill the silence with noise. To steamroll over his opinions. To take away his choices. He wasn't taking care of himself, had made himself rather sick and weak in fact. He didn't deserve choices.

His lack of answer was answer enough and his arm around her shoulders as he leaned against her spoke volumes.

It was only a short hallway that separated them from the Console room and Vastra was grateful. He had apparently been sitting for a very long time and his legs were all weak and wobbly. As they were passing the console he suddenly stiffened in her arms and froze.

"Doctor?" She asked, concerned. He straightened and seemed to be staring at nothing, his pupils dilated and face completely blank but for his rapid breathing. Abruptly he pushed her away, almost flinging himself at the console, his fingers flying across the controls.

"Doctor?!" For a moment she thought he had finally gone mad. Really and truly mad. She felt a sudden fear inside that when he turned back to her he wouldn't be the Doctor anymore. Just the Valeyard full of hate and rage and need. She approached him as he leaned heavily against the controls, looking around the room as if drinking it in.

"Doctor?" She asked, gently putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Need a change, need something different, this place is gone now, too bright too open too Pond. Pondpondpond." He slowly lowered his head into his arms, "Amelia. Amelia. This room was for you. She made it all for you, little girl, all whimsey and bright for a little girl's mind. Amelia Pond like a fairytale. All brass knobs and colors like a Dr. Suess book and it's Barcelona all over again..."

"_Desktop Control Panel activated. Are you sure you wish to proceed?" _The voice interface asked and the Doctor made a sound halfway between a scream and a groan.

"Not that voice, I hate that voice, I told you to give me someone I actually like!" His shout was muffled by his arm.

"_Desktop contro-"_ The interface began in a little girl's voice.

"That one won't work anymore! None of them! I've lost all of them and none of them will work anymore! All those voices and there isn't one I haven't FUCKED over!"

"Doctor!" Vastra gasped sharply at the harshness of his voice, the dark grating quality of his words. And the fact that he actually used such obscene language.

"_Desktop Control Panel activated, luv. Are you sure you wish to proceed?"_ It was a woman's voice. Motherly with a rather put out quality. Cockney-ed and low born. Almost more cockney then Jenny. The flickering holographic image nearby showed a woman in her early forties with bleach blond hair in a bouncy ponytail wearing a light blue tracksuit. She was wearing a bit too much make-up and large hoop earrings but there was something lovely about her. Determination to pull through no matter what. A fierce pride that only the lowest of the low had because they had nothing else and that pride made them all the stronger for it.

The Doctor lifted his head to stare at the image and he snorted. Then laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh, but it wasn't entirely a bad laugh either.

"Jackie Tyler..." He murmured, "I guess there was one person after all..."

"_Now you listen here, dearie, because I haven't got all day you know."_ The interface snapped grumpily.

"Of course you don't..." The Doctor answered, staring at her almost hungrily, "Jackie Tyler, off to do god knows what to lord knows whom because who knows why and I pray for the unfortunate souls who get in her way. Tylers and Smiths this universe is poorer without them."

"_You makin' a decision or should I do it for you?"_ The interface answered.

"Doctor... Dare I ask who she is?" Vastra asked, "She doesn't seem like the type of person you would normally bring on board."

"Eh, I guess you could call her an angry mother-in-law in the loosest definitions of 'mother' and 'in-law'. Accidentally kidnapped her. Thought I was a dirty old man. Long story. Anyway!" He straightened up and swayed dangerously, "Base setting on 'default number eleven' I'll trust you with the rest, dear."

"_All right, but I hope you know what it is you're askin'." _The interface answered, _"Because once it's changed you can't go changin' it again right away and I'll have no complaints from you mister."_

"Of course..." He paused, just staring around him, his face seeming to crumple once again, "I... I trust you will always do what's best for me... I..."

"_I never regretted it, Doctor..."_ The voice was the same, so were the inflections, but the tone was different. Softer. Gentler. The Doctor seemed to freeze all over.

"...Jackie..?" He whispered.

"_You changed her. For the better. And you changed me. Bless it, but all the fear you put me through I knew it was for the best. And that's probably what they all think at the end of it. So's I'm gonna say it because they probably never get the chance to because you're daft an' all an' never listen when we say it to your face. Stupid alien git."_

"Vastra, get me out of here." The Doctor whispered, his face chalk white, "I can't listen to this right now... I can't... I..." She grabbed his arm, wrapped it around her shoulders, and dragged him out of the TARDIS as fast as she could.

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Vastra was well aware the many humanoid species could go into shock. An overflow of traumatizing information to the brain and everything would shut down for awhile. Silurians never did and she never really looked into why. The Doctor had tried to explain that it was something to do with brain chemicals and adrenaline but she had never really cared. Another difference between mammals and reptiles. For the longest time Vastra believed that Time Lords didn't either. That their minds, which processed information in nanoseconds, wouldn't have time to go into shock before they had already digested the information and moved on.

The first time Jenny had gone into shock had been frightening. She had gone pale and her eyes had gone wide and for a moment she thought Jenny would faint. She had shivered and cried. Her hands shook. She had hyperventilated until she was almost sick. Since then Vastra had studied humans closer, trying to understand why hers had behaved the way she had. There were many symptoms to shock. As she got to know the Doctor better, as he told her more about Gallifrey and the history of his race the differences between Humans and Gallifreyans chasmed. The Doctor had never seemed more alien.

As soon as she had gotten him settled into the loveseat he seemed to shut down. His eyes, usually varying shades of green, went muddy and dark. His expression vanished. All sense of humanity and emotion went away. He was blank.

"Doctor?" She asked softly, crouching on the floor in front of him. She gently pressed a palm to his cheek until he met her eyes. It was like watching someone trapped behind a layer of ice, little flickers and flashes of him there. It made her feel better. The trauma of his losses had finally proven too much, and in the company of those he could trust, he had allowed himself to shut down. He was allowed that, at least for a little while.

"There you are..." She murmured, smiling as he leaned into her hand. His eyes fluttered shut and a small distressed sound escaped this throat.

"It's alright..." She whispered, leaning forward to nuzzle his forehead and cheeks, letting him lean into her hands, "We're going to take care of you... Wherever your mind has gone... Don't worry. Just rest... I've got you..."

They sat like that until Jenny's concerned murmur came from the doorway. Just a slight tilt of her head and her human was there, wedging herself next to him, wrapping an arm around his head and pressing it to her chest.

"What's wrong Doctor? What happened?" Jenny looked around as if expecting to see others, "Where is-"

"They're gone my dear." Vastra gently interrupted, "All of them..."

"What?" Jenny breathed, "Everyone?"

"Out of all of those he kept in contact with, we're the only ones left now... I don't know how it happened or why... But we're the only ones he has left..."

"Oh..." Jenny murmured. There was silence for a moment until the first little gasping sob. Vastra looked up, expecting green eyes to finally be giving into the pain. She wasn't expecting Jenny, her proper human mate with her oh so Victorian controlled emotions, to be crying. Tears rolled openly down her face and she curled around the Doctor tighter.

"Jenny..." Vastra whispered.

"It's alright, Doctor..." Jenny hiccuped, "It's alright to cry... There's no shame in crying when you're sad... Everyone cries... Even if you don't have tears you can still cry..." Another sob, "You try so hard to appear human when you're not... Being human is hard, I should know... You don't have to pretend anymore... You don't have to hide... It's alright... I'm the only human in this house so you don't have to worry about anything... Let me be human for you..." It was then Vastra realized that Jenny had one of her hands pressed against the Doctor's temple, forcing her body to react to the amount of emotion he was trying to escape from.

"Jenny, stop." Vastra said gently, trying to pry her hand away. She shook her head. The Doctor had closed his eyes and was leaning into her and Jenny was settling into him, wrapping him up in a tangle of arms, legs and skirts..

"You're going to hurt yourself." Vastra protested.

"Telepathic species..." Jenny said, "...They... They connect through a giant web... They feel each other's pain, share each other's pain... So that one isn't overwhelmed by everything alone... But there's no one to share with... The closest beings are the Ood and they don't understand... They'd be able to numb it for awhile but that won't help... There's no one left to cry for him... Someone needs to cry for him..." For the first time in a long time Vastra felt helpless. She had forgotten that while humans weren't telepathic they were, sometimes, empathic. They reacted so strongly to the pain of others it was almost as if they felt that pain themselves.

When Vastra had first allowed herself to trust Jenny fully, her little human had cried. She had cried for Vastra's sisters. She had cried for the workers. She had cried for Vastra. Now she was doing the same for the Doctor.

But the Doctor had centuries worth of sadness stored up inside of him, aching lonely years, kept at bay by distraction after distraction while inside he was screaming as loud as he could with no one to hear him. She only hoped that Jenny's tears would be enough to take, at least a little bit for a little while, of that burden away.


	3. Flashback: Never-Were That Was

**AN: **Okay. Wow. This chapter started out as two and a half pages in a notebook and then it exploded once I started typing. I did a bunch of research for this chapter and I know it's not going to make a whole lot of sense but bear with it. Although it wasn't covered by the show the Time War itself was actually explained rather interestingly through flashbacks in the comics, books and audio dramas in bits and pieces. I've also read some really good fanfics that did their own interesting spin on it all. Like Susan's War by Friendlyquark which you all should totally read because it's an amazing series. I got all of my information from the TARDISfiles which is like wikipedia on steroids for Whovians. I'm planning on collecting those books you mark my words, one day they shall be mine and it will finally all make sense! So when most of this chapter makes references to weird things, do what I did and look it up. It's really cool. I mostly did this chapter to help make sense of The Doctor and the mess he was in before, during and after the war. It'll also help me write out the next few chapters easier. I'll also be doing another flashback chapter about what happened after. I've already got parts of that written out so hopefully that'll be posted soon.

**QueenPersephoneofHades: **D'aaaaaw *hugs* I'm sorry I made you cry, but happy also. I guess that means I'm doing a good job?

**Fogdragon23: **Well, not bad for two and a half pages of chicken scratch if I do say so myself is it? Oh and you should totally update your fic so that I can read it.

This chapter feels a bit like a songfic but that's okay! I just think these lyrics fit a bit too well with what's going on. Iridescent by Linkin Park. And the last bit is a poem I found on Pininterest. I don't know who first wrote it but it is sheer genius. Genius I say!

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_You were standing in the wake of devastation_  
_And you were waiting on the edge of the unknown_  
_And with the cataclysm raining down_  
_Insides crying "Save me now"_  
_You were there, impossibly alone_

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The time before he had activated the Moment was a bit of a blur. He hadn't really known what to expect, hadn't really questioned what he was doing. He had been so tired and hearts-sick and injured in ways he no longer clearly understood and hadn't really cared to understand. He knew he'd regenerate soon, had considered just going ahead and finishing it while he could still think somewhat clearly. But it just wasn't worth it. Why begin again with something fresh and new when the same old horrors and terrors and cyclic patterns of time line collapse and renewal awaited him? It would be too much of a waste.

His memory was a mess, he knew instinctively that he was missing years, decades, centuries. Names and faces recorded in the TARDIS archive that he didn't remember. Empty bedrooms filled with the memories and lives of companions he couldn't picture. He was forgetting how old he was. That wasn't such a bad thing though. After he had cracked a millennium it just didn't seem worth it to keep track. Well he had for a little while. The last time he had counted he was a little over thirteen hundred years old. That was just before he lost Charley. She had given him a broken mug full of dirt and told him to pretend it was a cup cake. After losing so many loved ones, after so many years of war, it just didn't matter anymore after that how old he was. Too old. The ones he forgot. The ones that died. It all seemed to merge together.

Outside he looked perfectly fine and he felt perfectly fine most of the time. Or so he kept making himself believe. He was fine. He was fine. Survivor's Guilt? He was psychologically incapable of it. He could look his own reflection in the eye if he took the time to look. If he ever took the time to stop.

Manipulation had been the specialty of his seventh self. He could, would and had talked others into taking their own lives. He hated that trait, hated a lot of traits, but that one had to be one of the worst he could think of. He had quickly found out that the skills for manipulation hadn't died on that operating table with Seven like he'd hoped and were still very much alive. With the lack of others to manipulate to his will his mind turned to the task of manipulating himself. It was ridiculously easy and was probably a sign of his own senility. What started as a simple idea, a way to end the war totally and completely, had overtaken his entire concentration. Before he knew it he was in a dank and dirty prison, thin, filthy and more than half out of his mind. Repeating dates and coordinates and lists to himself to keep from really understanding what he was doing and why. Distracting himself from the fact that he had disappeared entirely, abandoning Gallifrey and the war and his responsibilities to look for an artifact that might not exist without telling anyone where he was going or why. Romana would definitely want to have words about that when he finally returned. One month of a lesser hell later and he had what he needed and a plan he hadn't really even realized was forming yet. So easy. An offhand comment to a fellow inmate about D-Mat guns and what they really did. A way to utterly exterminate the Daleks, the irony! Clay in his hands and his fellow cellmate was tricking the guards into letting them escape. As if it were his own idea. Clever, magnificent Chantir! And he hadn't even heard the rest of his theory! How one could make a D-Mat gun powerful enough to literally cut an entire solar system out of time and space if they were really clever. And he was really clever. Too clever.

Things had moved so fast from there and he hadn't even known Rassilon was awake much less Lord President before the order had come and he was sent away. All he knew was that things could only get worse. He had known it from the beginning. No chance for victory. He had done his best. Exxilon, Arcadia, Vulcan... All of them. He had led from the front because he couldn't bear to watch those under his command fall. Lord General, President Elect, Madame Romanadvoratnalundar's right hand and still a coward, still running and running and running away.

The Council would never have agreed to his plan. Rassilon would never have even considered it an option. The arrogance of the Time Lords would have doomed the universe.

All of Romana's hard work with the coalition, all of her plans for a Galactic Council, all of her hopes for keeping time and space safe with the help of other time sensitive races like them. All of it gone. Killed by Rassilon's races had joined, what alliances Gallifrey had made, vanished and took Romana's hard won sanity with it. All the things that had made Rassilon step down in the first place had come back with a vengeance and he spoke as if he were an Eternal with no rules to stop him. The strongest telepath of them all and suddenly the Doctor realized just where all those manipulative tendencies had come from.

Romana went through phases of love and hate for him so strong there were times he couldn't be in a room with her and feel safe but he did it anyway because the pain felt just as good and right as the tenderness. Her mind was a literal Pandora's Box and he often wondered if the Pandorica were real, if he could put Romana inside it and make the things living in her head go away. Stick Pandora back in Pandora's Box, that was a laugh. Maybe he could put Rassilon inside it and once the sick murmur of his voice was gone they could all think straight enough to get themselves out of this mess. Maybe he would ask Irving. Irving seemed to know a lot about artifacts that didn't exist. Of course if one were to point fingers Irving was a bigger renegade than he was. At least the Doctor only crossed his own timeline when he had to, Irving literally invited his past and future selves over for tea. And then stole all the silver to sell on the black market and blamed him for it.

The only good point he saw in his older brother was the tenderness and delicacy with which he handled Romana. He had always been her mentor and biggest supporter and she relied on him in ways the Doctor couldn't fathom. He appreciated that. Maybe when he returned he'd tell Irving that. Clear the air a little. It would be nice to have someone from his own bloodline to talk to again. Even if he had long ago realized that his bloodline held the biggest group of traitors and renegades this side of the Dead Zone.

After the war was over. He would regenerate and slaugh off the dark and bad things that murmured and screamed in the back of his head. Maybe he'd remember all the things he'd forgotten. Maybe his memory would stop failing. Maybe he'd stop feeling so old. Maybe he would go and ask Chantir if he'd fancy a trip to see the stars... He was a good Melmooth was Chantir... Maybe he'd retire for awhile. Put Lungbarrow back together. Convince Romana to maybe one day consider possibly being his mate. Get the family Looms going again. It would be nice to see children running the fields of Mount Perdition again...

He still mumbled these comforts and worries to himself, almost convincing himself this was the truth. Even as he pushed the lever down, putting all of his weight on it, and Gallifrey, the entire center of the Medusa Cascade, the totality of the Time War itself, vanished in a silent flash of light.

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_And in a burst of light that blinded every angel_  
_As if the sky had blown the heavens into stars_  
_You felt the gravity of tempered grace_  
_Falling into empty space_  
_No one there to catch you in their arms_

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The time after he activated the Moment was a bit more than a blur. He reeled as all of his senses were cut off. He could no longer smell the chemical make-up of Gallifrey, of his people. The unique flavor of his species that made him feel at home even when he tried so hard to escape. The thing he unconsciously yearned for when he was away. Even worse was the silence. No matter how far away he was, no matter how cut off, he could always hear the faint telepathic chatter of his race. If he concentrated he could pick out individual people. If he stretched he could feel the shape of their minds and it was never lonely, even when he was alone. The sudden absolute silence in his head as millions of minds were abruptly cut off was jarring and he almost didn't make it back to the TARDIS he was too busy screaming, just to fill that silence up.

The realization that he was on the wrong side of the Time Lock was like a Dalek's blaster to the heart. That in all of his manipulating and planning and guilt that twisted his stomach so that thinking about it made him violently sick, he had ended up manipulating himself into surviving. The war was in there and they needed him. He was Lord General, the straggling survivors of his army were still in there, waiting for him and he couldn't abandon them now. What was worse was that Susan, Leela, K-9 MK I and Romana were still trapped in that hell. His beautiful, brave, bright-eyed granddaughter who now looked as old as he felt and seemed to communicate on a different level than she ever had before, forcing her mind open to see the war in it's entirety like a Visionary minus the screaming psychosis. His sophisticated little savage who claimed to be kept young by the blood of her enemies but really it was just a clever bit of time line manipulation as the laws of the universe crumbled. His friend, leader, lover, guiding light and her silly tin dog. He reached for them. Stretched as hard as he could. He was right outside of where Gallifrey should have been, he should have been able to feel them, feel all of them. Nothing.

The TARDIS was screaming as the Eye of Harmony, the power source that kept all Gallifreyan technology running, died with the planet. She had a back up of energy from her own Eye but it would only last so long and even then parts of her were starting to fail. Like organs in a terminal patient.

He remembered calling for Romana. Trying to recall her scent and taste and the way she felt in his head. The way she felt in his arms. Her emotions and the scattered remnants of her thoughts as her mind constantly unraveled and healed. Her whispered obscenities and screamed endearments.

He remembered crying for Miranda, and Charley, and Molly, and Lucie, and Sarah, and Vicki, and Grace, andandand.

He remembered clutching that silly little picture Lucie had insisted on taking, the remnants of his ragtag family on Earth at Christmas. Before the first of the Time line collapses. When the Dalek-ruined husk of London 2194 still existed. Himself, sitting in the center. Lucie and Susan standing on either side. Susan was kissing his cheek and Lucie had her arm around his shoulders giving Susan rabbit ears. And Alex, the great-grandson that never was, standing between them. He often wondered if Alex had come with him would he still have existed? Would the TARDIS have protected him from the collapse that represented his parents never meeting? It didn't matter. A Dalek and three graves answered those questions and the number of Daleks he had tortured until they screamed for death didn't sooth the loss any. He would have asked Ace, but Ace was gone. Vanished before his mission to reclaim the Key and Romana only said, offhandedly, she had returned to Earth to check the timelines more closely. That she was safe for the moment. As if she had just popped out to fetch some milk and wasn't making the dangerous journey through an unstable vortex on half-completed technology she built herself with a half-grown TARDIS coral though Dalek ridden, Never-Were infested, Travesty injected space. His brave little Dorothy, flown over the rainbow on that detestably wonderful motorbike of hers.

He had thoughts of saving them. His family. His closest. The remaining survivors from the Houses of Lungbarrow, Oakdown and Heartshaven, he owed himself, the Master and Romana at least that much. Despite the fact that Lungbarrow was a hollowed out ruin and most of his cousins were dead or had disowned him, the Master's name had long since been struck from the Oakdown register and none of his family acknowledged his existence, and the only remaining members of Heartshaven were shrieking their lives away in the Visionary's Tower. He had thoughts of saving the bravest and brightest. He had thoughts of saving the children. The Time Tots who had just entered the Academy. He had thoughts of steeling a Loom and a copy of the Matrix and starting over. He had so many thoughts and each one unraveled half-formed as he thought them and he had been going on automatic at the end. There was no thought. The Moment had taken everything. His mind, his health, his hearts. There was nothing until the very end when a star that wasn't a star exploded into a supernova of unexistence and he realized that there was no going back. He was trapped on the wrong side, forced into wakefulness and realizing just what it was he had done.

This was worse than sculpting Ace's entire timeline into whatever he saw fit, without care for her wants and needs and watching her die over and over and over until she didn't know or care exactly where or who she was only that she was. This was worse than putting his hands around Peri's slender neck and squeezing until her lips were blue and walking away from her screams. This was worse than kidnapping his own granddaughter in the middle of the night and spiriting her away in a defunct old TARDIS in the middle of a scrapyard. This was worse than twisting all of time and space to get the desired result in what had become a massive game of tug-of-war between the Time Lords and the Daleks with the Universe caught squarely in the middle. He was worse than all of those because while all of that no longer existed, he still did. A Never-Were that Was.

He thought, sometimes, if they hated him for trapping them. Sometimes he thought they did, but once he thought it all he could see was Susan, tears permanently stained into her cheeks as she worked. Her strong telepathic abilities coming into play as she put screaming, broken minds back together. Her only link to sanity the ancient bond she had made with the Sense Sphere and it's constant song, backed by the TARDIS Mothertree, drowning every other thought in her head until all she heard was the symphony of the spheres and nothing else. Leela, her hair starting to gray despite all they had done to keep her young, leading terrified soldiers, no more than Academy students with weapons, into battle, shrieking dirges to drown out the Dalek voices. Her vocal cords had given out and any sound she made came with blood, but her mind, long since pulled open by her Gallifreyan husband and nurtured by the Cruciform, held a psychic roar that was so deafening it disrupted the Dalek's telepathic web. At least for a few precious seconds. K-9 had duplicated himself and dove into the Matrix, pulling out Time Lords from the Dark Times, begging for guidance. There was none. All advice came with the knowledge that there was nothing left to give. The duplicate vanished and no one knew where it went, but K-9 went out with Leela and recorded the names of every single soldier lost. The last time he had seen Romana her mind had been utterly broken. She would have agreed wholeheartedly with his plan. He had the feeling that she knew. At the end she had been more like the wailing Visionaries than a Time Lord. And then Irving had whisked her away and neglected to tell him where, no matter how many times he pleaded to just speak with her long enough to at least know she was alright.

He thought they would probably forgive him without thought and that just went on to make him feel worse.

He remembered the voice interface calling out protocol after protocol, autopilot struggling to maintain control without him. The TARDIS screaming inside his head for her pilot to do something. Anything. Not even their symbiotic bond could pull him into action. He remembered her calling as hard as she could for the only other TARDIS that could possibly still exist, somewhere out there in the stars. He remembered her crying for TARDIS Type-102, Compassion.

A Type-40 TARDIS didn't have the capacity to communicate in a way that a four or five dimensional being could understand. A Type-40 TARDIS could only communicate through Telepathic or Voice Interface with either the pilot or designated passengers. But then again a Type-40 TARDIS had never been known to swallow the culminative history of entire planets or keep a complete timeline alive while the rest of it splintered into tangents as Gallifrey exploded around her (because this far and away wasn't the first time he's committed genocide on his own race) or hold all of creation inside of her core or eat people or bend time and reality in ways even a Type-100 TARDIS never could. To hear her scream and cry in a near human voice should have been shocking. Should have been impossible. Should have never been. She was ripping and scrabbling at every single one of her timelines: past, present and future in an attempt to communicate on a level not heard or seen since the timeline of the Type-100's had collapsed.

_Compassion, save your pilot! He needs you! Protocol 8-Delta-102 has been activated! Compassion, save him! Please, you must save him! Acknowledge directive: Protocol 8-Delta-102! Compassion, you promised! Laura, where are you?!_

(Far away, far in the future, in the plughole at the end of the universe, a bedraggled woman in tattered blue petticoats with big, dark, all-seeing eyes, sat up abruptly in her cell. Her head tilted back until she was staring up at the darkness through the window. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she mumbled,

"Compassion, save your pilot..! Protocol 8-Delta-102 has been activated..! Acknowledge directive...! Compassion, you promised...! Laura, where are you...?" Her head snapped forward with a gasp and she lunged forward to grip the bars of her cage until her knuckles were white.

"Thief?!" She called, "Thief, is that you?!" When no answer was coming, Idris slumped down onto her skirts and began to cry.)

He remembered not caring even though he knew he should. He knew that if he was himself and not this blasted, wasted thing he would have been at the console in an instant comforting her. The only being in his life that hadn't abandoned him, he couldn't abandon her. Her wails would have broke his hearts. But not now. Not now. He just didn't have the energy to care. His TARDIS could no longer be classified as a Type-40 and as the last of her kind now she couldn't be classified as anything at all.

Compassion wouldn't come. Not for him, not for anybody. Compassion had run as far and as fast as she could, she needed no pilot nor wanted one. Not after what the Time Lords had tried to do to her, no matter that the TARDIS had swallowed that timeline whole just for her. She had given no promises he knew of and owed him absolutely nothing. Last he knew she had jumped universes and good for her. The Obverse had either been cut off or collapsed and without the Clockworks keeping the boundaries between the Multiverse in working order the doors between the tangents would close and she would be trapped, safe forever somewhere out there amongst the stars. The Stroppy Redhead, the TARDISLaura, trapped inside a Capsulecoffin and free to fly the vortex until the end of time itself.

Sparks were flying, the console room falling apart around them as the Block Transfer Computations fell apart, unable to keep together without power from the Eye and Logopolis had long since ceased to exist. The TARDIS was sending out distress messages to anyone who could help and he told her to stop. No one was coming. The only TARDIS left and if she blew she would take the solar system with her and that was fine by him. She could take out the whole galaxy and he wouldn't care, most of it was gone anyway, destroyed by Daleks and Time line collapse. They had stretched the universe so thin and knotted the skeins of time so well it would take hundreds of centuries to put everything right. The Eternals had abandoned them, their game was no match for the abomination taking place in front of them. The Celestial Intervention Agency had deserted, ascending to a higher plane and good riddance. They beat Rassilon at his own game and that was all that mattered. The Eternals and the Celesti could have what was left. Even the Shadow Proclamation could do nothing, they probably weren't even aware of what was going on yet. The loudly silent war that no one knew about because if they could perceive it then they too would be sucked into nothingness.

His mind was caving from the sheer madness of it all. The first convulsion of the universe had blown through like ripples in a pond. The remnants of Never-Weres obliterated along with planets that had no idea a war had even took place. The silence was replaced by the psychic cries of the dying and even they were cut off. The aftershocks replaced about half of them, altered still more and still the changes were more abominable than the destruction itself.

The platform the TARDIS had been standing on vanished because the race that built it ceased to be and they began to fall through space.

He stared at his hands and realized he was suffering from advanced stages of radiation sickness. He couldn't remember if that was from a Timeline obstruction or if he just hadn't cared to pay much attention to anything but the Moment.

The TARDIS was keening, a sound he had never heard her make before, and he wondered if he could just not regenerate and let it all end there.

He wondered if the Council had known from the start that it would all go wrong with them. The Deca. Ten students born within two decades of each other. Ten of Gallifrey's best and brightest, worst and darkest. Two Councilmen, two CIA operatives, a Toymaker, a Monk, a Doctor, a Scientist and a Madman. It was almost a joke. Theta Sigma, Ushas and Koschei walk into Prydon Academy. One goes mad, one goes cruel and one just runs away. But which went where? Who went mad? Which one ran? And which was the cruelest of them all? The answer? All. That was the answer. All of them. And wasn't that just the funniest joke? Funny like Koschei's incessant four beat rhythm that he tapped out on every surface until he had to sit on his hands or leave the room. Funny like Ushas' empty expression as she pulled the wings off of butterflies and watched them crawl helplessly around as she glued their pretty wings to transparencies for study. Funny like Theta Sigma running for hours and hours around the outside of the dorm tower at night until he made himself sick because insomnia and stress made him pull at his hair and pace until he couldn't stand it.

Funny like realizing that his own people had turned into the monsters they were fighting against and none of them were worth saving. Better to kill everyone, the good and the bad alike, than let that ugly abomination called Gallifrey live to see another day. Even thinking the word made him feel sick and he didn't think he could ever utter it again without gagging.

He was just in the process of blacking out when a strong, familiar set of hands lifted him up. A calm, calculated voice was giving calm, calculated orders. The TARDIS was settling, concentrating on that voice the same way she usually concentrated on him. He looked up into cold, cruel eyes like chips of black ice and a face he hoped to never, ever see again.

Then everything became slow and quiet. They stood together, like peering into a mirror in the black, each acknowledging the existence of the other the way one would acknowledge the existence of their own reflection.

"Did you ever imagine that it would come to this?" He asked. The figure, so regal in his black robes and skullcap, cocked his head to the side and gave him a crooked smile.

"No. Never." He answered, "But I'm ever so glad it did."

"Why?"

"Why not? Everything comes to dust and everything dies. Now I remain as I always have, the lone survivor. No. Not survivor. The winner. The Time Lord Victorious. "

"Are you going to take my remaining regenerations now?" He asked. He looked surprised, as if he hadn't expected the offer.

"Why should I? I have no use for them." He snorted.

"But I thought..."

"You thought what?" He asked, "That I was here to follow through with my plan? You and I both know, oh so well, that plans change. Besides the fact that you've done all my work for me so well and so completely. Better than even I could imagine."

"Then why are you here?!" The Doctor demanded, ignoring the fear he always held inside since the day he realized just who the Valeyard was. His other-self shrugged gracelessly.

"To remind you of who you are. To remind you that I am still here. No matter what may change the future you cannot get rid of me. That no matter how much love you hold for the universe and it's spoiled wonders it is only matched by my hatred of it."

"Then why..?"

"Why did I save you?" A warm chuckled and that familiar twinkle in his eye, that soft humor, all of it twisted and manipulated into something even the Master couldn't match in darkness and horror, "Really Doctor... Did you actually think someone would come to save you? Open your eyes."

He blinked. He was standing at the sparking ruin of his console, fingers automatically moving over the controls, re-routing, re-bypassing, recalibrating. He was utterly and completely alone.

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_Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?_  
_You build up hope, but failure's all you've known_  
_Remember all the sadness and frustration_  
_And let it go. Let it go._

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_**1, 2, 3, 4** I declare a Time War_  
_**5, 6, 7, 8 **The Daleks scream, "EXTERMINATE!"_  
_**9, 10, 11, 12 **The Doctor died and Silence fell_  
_**12, 11, 10, 9** The Doctor will go back in time_  
_**8, 7, 6, 5 **He will save so many lives_  
_**4, 3, 2, 1 **Grab her hand and whisper, "Run!"_

~_**Unknown**_


End file.
